


royalty-free spa day

by rocoroloco (wafumayo)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff and Humor, M/M, Spa Treatments, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24654940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafumayo/pseuds/rocoroloco
Summary: Akechi wasn't really on board with Ann's idea of having a home-spa day, but it was surprisingly relaxing. That is, until those darned cucumbers started to sting.No, Ann, Akechi is NOT crying, and no, Ann, Akechi is NOT feeling insecure about not knowing how Akira's social life is when he's on campus. It's all fine.Of course, in Akechi's world, nothing is ever completely fine.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Takamaki Ann, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Kurusu Akira & Takamaki Ann, Suzui Shiho/Takamaki Ann
Comments: 4
Kudos: 138





	royalty-free spa day

**Author's Note:**

> The Shiho/Ann is only mentioned briefly in the story. The characters are all aged up to university age; no concrete ages, but imagine Akechi is 22 and Akira & Ann are 21. Don't think too hard about the interior layout of Ann's apartment. I imagined my own apartment as I wrote this, so the bathroom and bedroom are super close to the front door.
> 
> I do home spas but I never do the cucumber on the eye thing, because when I was a kid, I really didn't like the sort of itchy feeling. I opened my eyes while the cucumbers were still on my eyelids and the stinging was just unforgettable. That part was indeed based on reality, I'm not exaggerating.
> 
> Edit 07/24: Formatting

“It’ll be so fun!” Ann exclaimed, dragging Akechi by the elbow.

“No,” Akechi grit out, planting his heels into the ground and forcing Ann to a stop before she could drag him into her spacious bathroom. “Again, why me?”

Ann huffed, but thankfully dropped Akechi’s arm, allowing him to take two big steps back until he felt himself hit the wall of Ann’s apartment. “You’re the only person I know who’s free,” — she held up one finger — “and interested in this sort of stuff,” — she held up another. “Can you imagine Makoto or Futaba having a spa day? No way, right?”

“But you can imagine me?”

“You’re telling me that you’ve never had a spa day before,” Ann said flatly. It wasn’t really a question, but Akechi could hear the sarcastic lilt at the end of her sentence. “You, with that skin, and that hair. You never had a spa day.”

Akechi looked away. He didn’t say anything. Let her draw her own conclusions. She wasn’t exactly wrong, much to his ire, about his experiences with salons.

During Akechi’s time as the Detective Prince, he had often been treated more as an idol than any sort of real detective. Sure, he was invited onto shows to talk about his ongoing or solved cases, but he rarely spent any time actually talking about them. Most of his interviews were focused on frivolous nonsense — What kind of skincare do you use? What’s your favourite bakery in Tokyo? What kind of girl is your type? — than any sort of actual police work.

In hindsight (and even a little at the time), he doubted the newscasters cared at all about what he was saying. They had been more interested in his sweet smile and 100% safe-and-fake answers that were guaranteed to draw in views and ratings.

Of course, since Akechi had never been a real detective, it had suited him perfectly well to spout shallow nonsense than any actual details.

To hide imperfections wrought by a stressful lifestyle and copious amounts of heavy television makeup, Akechi had maintained an easy weekly facial ritual. Starting from a sea salt exfoliation, followed by a charcoal clay mask, then a homemade honey-almond oil mask, and ending with jojoba oil-infused moisturizer. It had been the one oasis in his hell of a life, and it had been, if Akechi said so himself, amazingly effective. Even his makeup crew at the television studio expressed genuine disbelief at how well-maintained his skin was, demanding that he spill the beans.

All this to say that yes, Akechi did have quite some experiences with home spa days, but hell if he was going to give Ann the satisfaction.

Probably sensing that she wasn’t going to get much of an answer, Ann whined, “Come ooooon, trust me! I’m really good at this! I promise that I’ll make you feel and look great. I have lots of pro tricks and Shiho even told me that I should work as an aesthetician if I ever get tired of modeling!”

An opening.

“How is Suzui, by the way?”

Ann beamed, so bright that Akechi felt like he had to look away lest he be blinded.

“She’s doing great! She’s having lots of fun at her new school, and she can do some easy exercise. I’m really proud of her.”

Akechi nodded.

“I think she misses volleyball, even after all...that," Ann continued. "She thinks she might try out one of those casual community volleyball clubs, you know? Where they just play volleyball for fun?”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Akechi said agreeably. He surreptitiously snuck his hand into his back pants pocket, where his phone was. Now’s a good time as any to excuse himself for a little bit, call Akira, ask him to come and -

“Don’t think you can trick me into forgetting about spa day by making me talk about Shiho,” Ann snapped. “I’m not that lovesick, unlike you.”

Immediately, Akechi felt his face heat up. “It was one time only and I was drunk!” He could tell from Ann’s raised eyebrow that she wasn’t convinced at all.

Okay, so Akechi had gotten a little too drunk once while they were all out at dinner and he’d started getting on Ryuji’s case about how he wasn’t doing too hot in half of his courses. And okay, sure, Haru had managed to trick him into going on a one-hour rant about how much he loved....I mean, enjoyed Akira’s company until it was time to split up the bill and he’d realized that he’d never finished telling Ryuji off about how dumb he was for almost failing a first-year math course. And sure, maybe, just maybe, Akechi had gotten a little tear-eyed during the rant and had been laughed at by Ryuji.

Whatever. Not fair of Ann to throw it into his face like this.

“Oh, don’t pout,” Ann huffed before she brightened up again. “Now, aren’t you feeling upset? Don’t you think a nice facial and manicure might make you feel better?”

Feeling like a cow being herded by a particularly determined border collie, Akechi grimaced.

“All right, you win. I’ll admit I’ve been a little slacking on my skincare routine. Let’s just get it over with.”

\---

Akechi had thought that Ann would be as talkative as the aestheticians always were at his salon of choice while she was working on his nails, but she was dead silent. Her entire focus was on his nails, trying to make sure that she applied the crimson nail polish perfectly without accidentally getting it onto his skin. She’d complained in the beginning about how uneven Akechi’s nails were (nail biting had always been an unfortunate bad habit of his around exam season, especially since he stopped wearing his leather gloves), but now she was completely in the zone.

Not for the first time since this entire endeavour began, Akechi wondered if Shiho had been being her usual slightly-mean self when she’d convinced Ann that she was suited to be an aesthetician. He had to admit that Ann was doing a pretty good job with his nails so far, but he’d never been more bored in his life during a spa session.

The oatmeal-and-honey exfoliating mask hadn’t settled completely on his face yet, so he deigned to ask, “How’s school been for you and Akira? He told me you guys are usually on campus around the same time?”

“Don’t talk with the mask on,” Ann replied, though seemingly more out of habit than a conscious decision. “Hmm,” she paused the painting and angled Akechi’s hand this way and that before continuing, “Akira’s popular, you know? When we see each other, we usually go grab some coffee and work on readings or homework together. But, when I see him, he’s surrounded by a huge group of people. His classmates, I guess? He’s always been really good at attracting people to him.”

Akechi bit back a fond smile with no small amount of effort. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

Akira had always been the sun and Akechi the moon, drawn into his orbit no matter how much Akechi himself loathed thinking about it. And he knew it wasn’t just him. The Phantom Thieves, Akira’s old confidants all around Tokyo...they were all helpless moths to the flame known as Kurusu Akira. And now, having grown a few centimeters taller and a tad more buff, without the heavy cross on his back and remnants of a tattered reputation as a result of a false accusation, he’s even more attractive than ever. Akira always takes care to silence his phone when it’s just the two of them, but Akechi could always see dozens and dozens of notifications blaring into existence on Akira’s smartphone.

Never in his life did Akechi regret accepting a place at an elite university as much as now. Why didn’t he wait a year like he’d planned to in the first place so that he’d be able to go to the same university as Akira (and, he supposed, Ann and Ryuji)? He didn’t know any of the people in Akira’s “University Friends” or “Study Group” contact lists. Didn’t know anything about Akira’s campus life outside of what Akira and Ann tell him, and even then, just what are they leaving out? Not out of any malicious intent, of course, but obliviousness.

Ann and Akira aren’t stupid, but there’s still an optimistic and idealistic streak a mile wide in the both of them. He wouldn’t put it past them to write off someone’s romantic interest as “just being friendly.” But it’s not as if Akechi has the time to just show up on their campus, nor would he even if he did! Just what kind of possessive boyfriend is he? Just what kind of monster did Akira unleash from within him?

God, working his mind into a jealous and insecure frenzy was not part of the promised home spa day package. He needed something to distract him, stat.

It’s a bit early, but Akechi reached into the small bowl next to him on the bathtub rim, and pulled out two thin slices of cucumbers. He placed one each on his eyes and scooted down slightly on the plush bathroom mat so that he could angle his head back and relax.

Or tried to, anyway.

He’d never used cucumber slices before but were they supposed to be so cold as to sting the eyelids? Instantly uncomfortable rather than any sort of relaxed, Akechi reached up and plucked the cucumbers off. He could still feel the strange buzzing tingling, and carefully, so as not to disrupt the oatmeal mask any more than he’d already, Akechi started to rub at his eyes.

“O-Oh!” He felt Ann let go of his hand, even though he could have sworn she still had three fingers left to go. “A-Are you crying, Akechi? Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I don’t think Akira’s really friends with half the people he hangs out with on campus. I think he just hangs out with them because they’re really good at chemistry, and he almost failed it last semester.”

“I’m not crying,” Akechi snapped. With the palm so that the still-wet nail polish wouldn’t get all over his face, he used the hand Ann released to rub at his other irritated eye. “The cucumbers are rotten or something. My eyes are tingling.”

“Right,” Ann said, her tone clearly indicating that she did not believe Akechi at all, which is ridiculous. Akechi’s not an idiot. People want to hang out with Akira, but the guy himself was notoriously picky when it came to the type of person he willingly associated with these days. He didn’t really reject people who entered his social circle, but he wasn’t the type to go chasing after you if you stopped hanging out with him or contacting him, either. If you weren’t an irredeemable head case, a complete asshole, or an academic prodigy to cheat off off, Akira was surprisingly dry and closed off.

Lucky for Akechi, he managed to tick all of Akira’s boxes.

All he’d needed was a little bit of time for himself to work it out. God, this is why Akechi never considers himself to have been a real detective.

And speaking of Akira, Akechi could hear the telltale and godforsaken melody of “Magical Mister Mistoffelees” ringing from Ann’s smartphone. He’s going to kill Futaba one day for making them all watch Cats and then permanently setting one of its catchiest songs as Akira’s ringtone on everyone’s phones.

“Uh, it’s Akira,” Captain Ann Obvious said.

Akechi couldn’t open his eyes without his vision blurring and his eyes stinging again (seriously, what is wrong with those cucumbers?) so he had to rely on his hearing. He could hear Ann stand up and pad over to the counter where she’d tossed her phone after googling up homemade mask recipes.

“Hello?” She said.

Akechi couldn’t hear anything except Ann’s occasional “uh-huh”s, but then she said “Okay, yeah, I’ll open the door” and that was when Akechi reached out to where he intuitively imagined Ann’s hand to be and grabbed.

Ann screeched. Oops. That was her thigh.

“Ann?!” Akechi could hear Akira’s tinny voice from the smartphone, then, to his horror, a dull thumping noise from the distance. A dull thumping noise that sounded suspiciously like someone knocking on the front door.

“What was that for!?” Ann shouted, sounding deeply affronted.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Akechi hissed back. “Why are you letting him into the apartment!?”

“He borrowed some manga from me the other day and he’s here to return it,” Ann shot back, sounding way too matter-of-fact for her completely ridiculous string of words. “I can’t just leave him waiting outside my door, and trust me, you’ll want Akira by your side more than you want me if you’re really crying.”

“I’m not crying!” Akechi exclaimed. “I told you, your cucumbers are rotten or something. I can’t get the gunk out of my eyes.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

The whole time during their exchange, Akechi could still hear the distant sounds of thumping, and Akira’s yelling of ‘Ann! Open the door!’ getting louder and more frantic. At this rate, Ann’s neighbours would call the police on them.

“Go let him in before he wakes up the entire complex,” he grumbled.

Ann didn’t need to be told twice, and in fact, Akechi suspected that she’d been slowly edging towards the door the entire conversation.

Using all of the discipline he has as a former Metaverse assassin and current criminal justice undergrad, Akechi managed to open his eyes against the stinging of the cucumbers. The bowl of homemade oatmeal-and-honey mask was still half-full, and it wasn’t as if Ann couldn’t just make another batch for herself, so Akechi had zero qualms in turning on the water and starting to rub at his face with one of Ann’s clean face-towels. The nails were a lost cause — Ann was going to have to re-do them.

Off in the distance, he could hear the muffled voices of Ann and Akira as they talked about manga or whatever, but Akechi figured that Ann probably wouldn’t want Akira to just trounce around her bedroom and bathroom, so he was safe.

“Akechi?!”

The door bust open and instead of being graced by Ann, Akechi found himself suddenly in the presence of one Kurusu Akira.

Ah, of course. Akechi had forgotten that “boundaries” was an idea completely foreign to the Phantom Thieves.

“I heard from Ann,” Akira said, sounding way too upset for a simple spa day gone wrong. Alarm bells started ringing in Akechi’s head. He may be shoddy when it came to making deductions, but when it came to sensing danger on the horizon, Akechi was, unfortunately, a true through-and-through professional. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shouldn’t she be apologizing to me herself?” Akechi mumbled from behind the towel.

“What?” Akira said but he let Akechi’s interjection slip off his back like a Zio off a Mothman. “I’m so sorry that I made you feel insecure. I swear, I only hang out with half the people I do on campus because they let me copy their answers if I sneak them free coffee from work. Please don’t cry, Akechi. I only have eyes for you.”

Cheesy! So cheesy! Akechi could gag if he wasn’t currently covering Ann’s towel with bits of sticky oatmeal. He took the towel away from his face to inform Akira that Akira should dial back on the dramatics, because it’s not as if Akechi’s dying or anything, so —

The close-up of Akira’s face, with his (annoyingly) smooth skin and thick eyelashes, was never really unwelcome in Akechi’s world but in this instance, as Akechi was rearing up to really go to town with his complaints about Akira’s lovey-dovey nonsense, it wasn’t the ideal thing for Akechi to see. Especially since there were still clumps of half-dried oatmeal on the tip of his nose. Which was currently getting squished by Akira’s nose as Akira gave him one of the worst kisses of his life.

“Mmf!” Akechi said.

“Mm,” Akira said back.

They separated. Akechi’s face was probably extremely red right now, based on how warm he was feeling. On the bright side, his eyes no longer stung. The oatmeal that had been on Akechi’s nose now decorated Akira’s, making him look like a low-budget Rudolph cosplayer.

“I was never worried about that,” Akechi said, as if the kiss had never happened. He wanted, no, needed, Akira to know that Akechi understood Akira’s magnetism doesn’t necessarily mean that Akira himself is off gallivanting about and enjoying an Akechi-less social life. He needed Akira to know that Akechi wasn’t going to fall into an insecure pile of nerves and tears every time he felt remotely snubbed from Akira’s academic life. “Akira, I —”

“Ahem.”

Could no one let Akechi finish a thought in peace around here? Akira whirled around and moved back slightly, giving Akechi a perfect view of Takamaki Ann, her arms crossed and her head held high. The smile on her face said she was having a good time, but the cold glint in her eyes made no secret that she was annoyed with the romcom going on in her bathroom. In one hand, she held a slightly battered shoujo manga and Akechi knew that she definitely had no qualms about wielding her manga as a blunt weapon if she needed to make a point.

“Sorry, Ann,” Akira said, and he actually looked and sounded quite abashed. “I shouldn’t have pushed past you.”

“And gotten dirt all over my floors!” Ann yelled.

Akechi looked down. Akira still had his shoes on and they looked quite dirty. He feared to see the once-pristine halls of the Takamaki residence. Akira was always running in fields and having hikes in the forest. Who knew what was caked on the bottoms of his sneakers.

Ann sighed. “This wasn’t exactly the spa day I imagined. Sorry I made you cry, Akechi.”

“Please stop apologizing for that. I wasn’t crying. The cucumbers were rotten.”

Akira looked at the bowl of cucumbers sitting next to Akechi’s hand on the counter. He picked up one thin slice and rubbed it a little, raising an eyebrow as he did so. “They feel fine to me.”

Akechi didn’t bother replying to Akira’s ridiculous statement.

“Your nails are all messed up!” Ann exclaimed. Akechi and Akira both looked down at Akechi’s hands. Lo and behold, the deep red that Ann had meticulously coated onto his cuticles were patchy and lumped up. It was truly an abomination to behold. It was probably all rubbed off by Ann’s towel, which probably could only be salvaged by a trip to the garbage can.

The three of them stood around a little awkwardly before Akira coughed lightly into his fist. “I’ll help you clean up, Ann. Especially your hallways. Sorry I ruined your house and your spa day.”

“I’ll help, too,” Akechi offered. It really wasn’t fair of them to do this to Ann, who only ever had people’s best intentions in mind. He had been feeling a little bit salty about Ann tattling on Akira about his tears, but it was hard to fault her. It was like bearing a grudge against a playful golden retriever. Only villains did that, and Akechi Goro was no villain.

Ann brightened up considerably. “Yeah, okay! We can have a little cleaning party and after that, we’ll continue the spa day. Akira, you should join us.”

Akira looked at his bitten nails and touched his face. “You think I need one?”

“Well, no, it’s just a fun little thing to relax.” Ann chirped.

Akira shrugged. “Okay, then. Let’s go clean.”

So they cleaned and tidied up and washed up the used towels. They did manicures and pedicures (Ann made sure that Akechi and Akira matched, and Akechi was pleased to note that he did a better job than Akira did when it came to painting Ann’s) and when they did their facials, they made sure not to use any of the cucumbers.

(Akechi had insisted so that they could all understand why Akechi had been rubbing at his eyes for five minutes straight, but Akira and Ann had backed out.)

Sure, Akechi didn’t know what it was like to have Kurusu Akira as a partner in a group project for first-year psychology, and sure, Akechi didn’t know what Kurusu Akira was like when he was on campus. But, surrounded by Ann’s warm laughter and Akira’s comforting weight against his arm, he was sure that he was seeing a part of Akira that none of his “University Friends” or “Study Groups” contacts had ever seen before, or will ever see in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you guys know that the Cats musical is extremely popular in Japan? I wonder what they love so much about it. 
> 
> The ending is not good, but in the original ending, Ann kicked them out of the house and then they went home, and I thought that was sort of bad. So I decided to make them stay, but I didn't want to actually write out a spa day because no matter how I did it, it sounded sort of boring. Cut it while it's still okay. I did go over the whole thing twice to catch as many mistakes as possible and for coherency/style, but if I miss any mistakes, that's on me.


End file.
